


Target25: (a tiny) Lion

by polyphaga



Category: Killer7
Genre: Cats, Friends to Cat Parents???, M/M, vaguely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28286835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyphaga/pseuds/polyphaga
Summary: A gift for Marty in the Grasshopper Manufacture Secret Santa for the prompt "playing with cats" and the pairing Garcian/Mills. I went all out on the cute stuff while still trying to vaguely tie it in to the plot of Killer7 lol. Hope you enjoy!! :)
Relationships: Garcian Smith/Christopher Mills
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Target25: (a tiny) Lion

Garcian Smith considered himself a man steeled to whatever situation the life of an assassin for hire could throw at him. Gunfights, encountering human trafficking rings, even ever-mutating forms of the surreal creatures known as the Heaven Smiles. But something about how Christopher Mills handled a sports-car made him just a little nervous.

The two men had been meeting at one of the overpasses where they regularly exchanged information, when a black van pulling up behind them in the service lane fired a shot through Mills' back window. The bullet whizzed past Garcian's headrest, and he responded automatically, pulling out his own silenced pistol, and trying to get a clean line of sight on the vehicle through the shattered back window of the car. Mills responded just as quickly, pulling out of the service road and bringing the car up to speed, merging smoothly across three lanes at once.

“Sorry Garcie, hang on for this one.”

Mills waited to the last second to swerve hard and take the next exit off the highway, causing the van to miss its chance to keep following them. Mills' driving then took them down a winding series of shortcuts and side streets until he pulled into the underground parking of an apartment complex. He pulled the key from the ignition after a tense moment, and slumped in the seat.

“Whew! Well, we lost them, for now. Would you like to come up for a cup of tea, Garcie?”

Garcian slipped the safety back on his gun and tucked it into its proper compartment in the long briefcase that lay across his lap. His stomach still felt like it was swimming around, but he at least felt like he could exhale now.

“Sure. Why not.”

Mills lived in an upscale but not ostentatious apartment towards the top of the building. As they rode the elevator up, Garcian fidgeted with his tie, and looked down to see Mills watching him.

“Relax,” he said, with his typical easygoing grin. “You've definitely been in ritzier places, and probably uninvited, too.”

Garcian sighed. “Never for a personal visit.”

“Maybe you spend a little too much time alone then,” Mills replied.

“Sure doesn't feel like it.”

The elevator bell dinged, and the door slid open on silent, well-maintained rails. The was only one central hallway area on this floor, and four doors leading to each penthouse apartment. Mills grabbed his keys from his pocket, spinning the key ring around his finger a few times and glancing down the hallway both ways before unlocking his door, and welcoming Garcian in.

The apartment was spacious, and felt even more so from the large windows that let in more sunlight than ever was able to seep inside Garcian's trailer, even on an overcast afternoon. Minimalist wasn't the right word for the interior, it was more humble. Despite the space Mills could apparently afford, he only had a simple wooden rug on the floor, a kitchenette with a small line of cabinets and a high table with wooden chairs gathered around it, a gleaming stainless steel fridge, sink and stove on one side of the entrance. On the other side, there was a sofa, a sizeable bookshelf filled with well-worn books neatly lined up, a row of potted plants. In front of one of the windows was also a large cat tree, and a basket with a variety of jangly balls and plush rats inside. It was an extremely quiet and relaxing home, Garcian thought, something Mills must have worked his way up towards as an escape from being involved in shady underworld dealings from an almost unbelievably young age. It would be totally unbelievable to Garcian, if his story didn't have its own similarities.

“A bit much, isn't it?” Mills sighed. “I'll make you some chamomile tea. It always helps when I have a queasy stomach. That alright with you?”

“Sure, sounds fine.” Garcian walked into the kitchen and placed his long briefcase on the table. He watched Mills, lifting himself up onto the balls of his feet to rummage in the cabinets, pulling out a tin canister full of various teabags and an earthy-colored ceramic mug. That everything in Mills' kitchen seemed to have a precise place made Garcian feel slightly fidgety, so he walked back towards the more open area of the apartment. Behind him, he could hear water rushing to fill the hollow metal of the kettle, a clunk as it was placed on the stove, and the click of a burner coming to life.

As he stared across to the other side of the apartment, a strange creature sulkily emerged from behind the couch, sticking its nose out to sniff the air.

“You know, when I moved here I didn't really know what to do with all the space. Still don't.” Mills continued the friendly line of conversation from behind him. “I thought it might mean a bit more exercise for him, but he's as lazy as ever.”

The creature was a gigantic, fluffy tabby cat, with white socks and a white tuft on his chest. The cat approached Garcian and sat in the middle of the rug on the floor, regarding him regally and swishing his tail back and forth.

“What's his name?” Garcian asked.

“Um...” Garcian looked over his shoulder to notice Mills looking a little embarrassed at the question. “It's Rolo.”

“Rolo?”

“You know, like those caramel and chocolate candies with the gold wrappers? Because he kind of has those yellowish and dark brown stripes.” Mills watched as Rolo slowly lifted himself to his feet, and continued walking towards Garcian. He stopped, sitting matter-of-factly right in front of Garcian's polished white leather loafers, and looked up at him with a meow that seemed to curl into a question mark.

“And he's certainly round,” Mills added. The kettle began boiling and whistling softly on the stove. “Well go ahead,” Mills said, as he went back to preparing the mug of tea. “Give him a pet so he knows you're a friend.”

Garcian crouched down and extended a hand towards the cat. This was a bit of a puzzle to him, since he didn't really have any childhood experiences of pets or animals in general to draw on, but Rolo seemed agreeable enough. He moved his tiny nose close to the tips of Garcian's fingers and it twitched a few times as he sniffed. Garcian waited to see how the cat would respond before deciding where to pet him, but Rolo seemed happy to butt his head against Garcian's hand after a moment, assertively getting Gracian to rub him behind the ears. As Rolo's tail swished happily, Garcian admired his fur. It really did look like brown and gold striping back and forth across the cat's back. His trailer was no place for a good-natured cat like this, he thought, but he could tell why someone who necessarily lived a sort of distanced life like Mills would enjoy keeping one around.

The cat stood up and stretched, turning in a circle but meowing again as Garcian pulled his hand away. He heard Mills chuckle softly beside him before placing the warm mug of tea on a nearby side table.

“You're a natural, so now he's not going to let you leave him alone.” Rolo meowed a third time, louder than before.

“What?” Garcian asked, partially to Mills but mainly in response to the cat. He held his hand out again and Rolo purred, allowing him to pet along his back. “Friendly cat,” Garcian said.

“He doesn't meet many people,” Mills replied. “Sometimes he can be a bit of a diva, but he warmed up to you quick. Do you like cats?”

“I've never had any pets.” Garcian said.

“That's a shame, you seem like you're good with animals...” Mills trailed off, taking a few steps towards the big windows. “Anyways, Garcie...”

Garcian could tell that Mills was hesitant to interrupt him tentatively bonding with his cat. He followed Mills' eyeline, glancing out of the window and down the street leading towards the building. A black van was rolling slowly up the street, as if it was hunting for something. It was the one that had been tailing them.

“Could you, uhh... Take care of this?”

He didn't seem too bothered by the assassins prowling down the street, but Garcian noticed that Mills did frown slightly when he walked across the apartment to where his long briefcase sat on the kitchen table and clicked it open. Garcian felt outside of himself as he surveyed the weapons inside and then made his selection. CONNECTION, the pistol with the scope, would do the job here.

“Of course,” he said. “I'm a professional.”


End file.
